Halo
by Graceinspace981
Summary: Jack Morrison has not always been afraid of love, but ever since getting back stabbed by the only person he trusts, Jack has had trouble making connections. He didn't think he would ever love again until he met Angela Ziegler, his only true friend. Will she be able to save him from a lonely life or will Jack truly never love anyone?
1. Fight

Chapter 1

My stomach lurches and I'm pushed forward in my seat as the ship bumps to a stop. The metal bar across my waist slides up and I stand. A hand grasps my shoulder and I look to my side to see Mercy smiling up at me.

"Ready, 76?," she says. She asks me this every day, and the answer is always the same.

"Ready, Ziegler." I place my mask over my nose and mouth, but still feel a cold breeze as the door of the ship drops open. A robotic voice over the loudspeaker blares:

"Welcome to Volskaya Industries. Your current objective is to stop your opponents from capturing both control points. The points are located towards the center of your location. Good luck."

I rush out of the ship, and feel thin patches of snow crunching under my boots as I hit the ground running. Mercy follows soon after, keeping up with the help of her wings. We're joined by the rest of the team as we make progress towards Point A.

"So," begins Reinhardt, his thick German accent breaking the silence, "What is the plan?"

I notice that he's addressing me when he speaks. He expects me to have something planned out. I do.

"Reinhardt, you stand in the center of the point. Make sure no one comes in," I say, "Torbjörn, help Reinhardt defend. Set up a turret at the corner of the area."

Torbjörn nods, his mouth a grim line under his golden beard.

"What about me?," asks Tracer, blinking to my side as we reach the control point.

"You and McCree will defend the west entrance while Mercy and I take the north. Take position, team. You all have two minutes."

At my words, they disperse into their positions, Reinhardt stepping into the center of the glowing rectangle, Torbjörn taking the bottom left-hand corner. He begins constructing a shiny red turret next to a safety canopy containing a large health pack. He finishes building his turret and we all meet at the center of the point. We form a circle as the speaker blares:

"Sixty seconds remaining! Assume your positions."

I place my hand in the middle of the circle, Mercy puts hers on top of mine, Tracer's on top of Mercy's, McCree's on top of Tracer's, Torbjörn's on top of McCree's, and Reinhardt's on top of all of ours.

"Alright, team," I start, "Today, we put our all in. We can't afford to lose this again."

I stare into the grim faces of my teammates. I can't help but feel nervous. Even after being a member of Overwatch for so many years and fighting so many battles, I still feel hesitant sometimes. I think Mercy feels the tension, so she squeezes my hand reassuringly. Her presence floods my body and I feel my cheeks grow warm under the mask. I clear my throat and stand up straighter.

I pull my mask off of my face and look at each one of my teammates.

"We just..." I begin, "We just can't lose again. And I know that every single one of you has the strength to win."

I smile at my team, my friends. It still feels a little bit forced, so I place my mask back on and count down.

"3, 2, 1," I say.

"Team!," we all respond and lift our hands in the air together.

McCree and Tracer rush to the west entrance as the countdown begins:

"5."

Reinhardt takes position in the middle of the point.

"4."

Torbjörn stands next to his turret, its red metal gleaming in the sunlight.

"3."

I sprint to the north entrance, and Mercy glides through the air, a string of yellow light leading her to me.

"2."

I pull my gun out of its holster and position it against my arm.

"1."

The distant sound of maniac cackling resonates through the air as a sinister dust settles, and the sound of boots crunching through snow seems to grow closer.

My shoulders tense up and I take a deep breathe as a dirty face cackles, staring at me from around the corner. The next thing I feel is a tingling warmth, tendrils crawling up my body until I am surrounded by a fuzzy halo of light. I turn around and, sure enough, I see Mercy holding her staff towards my back, a grim expression on her face as she nods. I nod back and turn away. I run into the sheltered tent-like alcove next to the objective and she follows.

Looking in front of me, I see Reinhardt and Junkrat battling. Reinhardt's hammer flies and lands a hit on Junkrat's stomach. Junkrat recovers and produces a concussion mine from his back pocket. He throws it above Reinhardt's head and presses a big red button, activating the bomb.

Mercy moves quickly, getting to Reinhardt just in time and healing him slightly, but she is immediately noticed by the junker. He launches a grenade out of his weapon and it explodes next to her. She stumbles into the shelter and grabs a large health pack from the pile of crates in the corner. She holds it up to her chest and it dissolves into her clothes as her chest heaves in relief.

Reinhardt has now pinned Junkrat against the cold metal wall, crushing his life away. Junkrat crumples on the ground, dead. But before Reinhardt has processed what happened, I see the bombs from Junkrat's body land at Reinhardt's feet and blow up. Mercy gasps but soon regains her composure. I speak into my mask headset.

"Ally down. Is everyone okay?"

I hear static coming in through my earpiece

"Fine. I just took down Mei and Tracer's working on Reaper," said McCree, the sound of gunfire interrupting his voice.

Mercy presses the button on her earpiece.

"Is Tracer okay on health?" she asks, doctorly concern ringing behind her voice.

I hear McCree repeat the question to Tracer from a distance. I don't hear her reply.

"She's doing fine," says McCree, but as he speaks, I hear a loud gunshot echo through my earpiece and Mercy and I cringe simultaneously.

"No!" shouts McCree, "No. She just took a bullet to the shoulder. You better get here quick, doc."

"I'm on my way," says Mercy, her voice echoing through the headset as she speeds over to Tracer, staff at the ready.

I try to catch up to her but I am stopped when a patch of snow flies up on the ground next to me. I look behind me and see Widowmaker standing on the platform, gun aiming at my feet.

"Bonjour," she scowls.

She begins to fire at me. She shoots me in the left leg and right arm. I fire back and hit a lucky shot in the middle of her chest. She clutches at her heart dramatically and falls to the ground. I begin to limp over to Mercy, McCree, and an injured Tracer, but hear the quick noise of Torjörn's turret firing at something that seems to be whirring. I don't recognize that sound. Then, as I round the corner, I the white tail of a dress disappearing into a safe house next to us.

Reaper is dead, riddled with holes from Tracer's pulse pistols. McCree is keeping watch.

"Sixty seconds remaining!" Athena's automated voice yells through the loudspeaker.

Mercy heals Tracer and she is back to normal health in a few seconds. However, before I have time to warn my teammates, Symmetra is on Tracer like a cheetah. She leaps from the safe house and points her photon projector at Tracer's back and it connects, embracing her like a spider leaping on its prey, cocooning her in hard-light.

Tracer falls on the ground dead, and before Symmetra can escape, I aim at her and fire. Symmetra dies too, tripping over her own feet as she tries to run away.

"Thirty seconds remaining!" Athena warns.

We go around the corner to see if anyone got on the point. A pink-haired head whips around when we show up. Zarya starts her gun, holding it on her knee and points it at me. No. She points it at Mercy. Zarya burns a whole through Mercy's stomach just as I jump in front of her. I shoot her down, McCree guarding my back. As Zarya falls, she flings her gun and it points at my chest, creating a dark hole across the chest of my jacket. My skin burns and I fall over onto McCree. He catches me and brings me to the nearest safe house for protection.

"Victory!" Athena's automated voice yells through the loudspeaker.

I sit with my back propped back up against the wall, pain searing through my chest and limbs. My gloves are bloody and I take them off, throwing them to the ground next to me, holding my stomach.

McCree sighs.

"I don't know about you but I'm gonna go meet the others on the ship. Give them the good news," he says.

"Alright," says Mercy, "We won't be long. I just need to get this idiot healed up."

She smiles at me and I take off my mask and return it weakly.

"Ok. Don't be too long. I hear a storm's coming. I think I saw some lightning in the distance." He looks up at the sky and sighs again as he walks away.

Mercy starts to raise her staff, but I hold my hand out and stop her.

"Don't," I say.

She whimpers in pain.

"Let me see," I try to bend down to see her wound but my own injuries force me back against the wall.

"It's my job to protect you, Jack," she says with a tone of seriousness in her voice.

"No!" I say too loudly. She jumps. "I said no. I'm sorry, but it's my turn to help you. You've done enough."

She nods, defeated. I pull my biotic field from a strap on my pants and slam it down on the concrete. Our gunshot wounds start to close in and my burn freezes over.

She sits back against the wall and closes her eyes. They open again and she looks into mine.

"Thank you, Jack. I mean, for jumping in front of me."

"Thank you," I say. "Ziegler, you save my life every day. Without you...without you..."

She shushes me by putting her finger over my lips. My face burns red.

"Shut up, you big idiot. I'm not going anywhere," she whispers.

She scoots closer to me. She's practically sitting on my lap now. My heart pounds as she touches my shoulder. I get chills when she moves her hand towards my cheek. And her lips touch my neck and I think I love her. And my jaw and I know love her. She kisses my cheek and my chin and my nose and my li-...I love her but I can't.

"I can't do this," I say, "I'm so sorry but I just...I...I can't be with you."

She backs up, worried and surprised.

"But-"

"I just can't. Please, I just can't," I don't know when I stood up but I'm on my feet now. So is Mercy. I start to walk out.

"Jack..."

But I'm gone already. She runs after me, catching up with her wings. She's right behind me now. I just keep walking

"Jack, can we just talk about this? Please?!"

I keep walking and she keeps flying back to me.

"Jack-"

My feet stop crunching in the snow and I turn to face her.

"Ziegler, are you fucking deaf?!" I'm startled at the loudness of my own voice and I almost choke on my words, "I told you I can't do this! I don't want to talk about this, please, just leave me alone!"

She stands there staring at me with dry eyes, emotionless.

It's so quiet and I just want it to stop. So I start walking, the sound of my footsteps filling the space between us. After a few seconds, I hear her following behind, but she doesn't try to catch up this time. I prepare myself for something, anything, maybe a sniffle or a sob, but nothing comes. So I keep walking until I get to the ship and we take off in silence.


	2. Realization

**Hi, guys!**

 **I was so happy to see the support on chapter 1 and surprised as well. Since this is my first story on , this is a lot for me.**

 **If you saw the first chapter of my story and liked it, I would love to see some comments with feedback and ideas.**

 **Because of the amount of views coming in right now, I've decided to make another chapter today to keep you guys interested.**

 **Please feel free to leave any suggestions for me in the comment section. I would really love feedback and would try to incorporate any ideas of yours into my story.**

 **Till chapter 3,**

 **Graceinspace981**

Chapter 2

I wake up the next morning and my breath smells like smoke and alcohol. I groan and turn to my side to check the time. It's eleven in the morning. My tiny bedside table is crowded with bottles of beer and a tall empty wine bottle. No glass or anything. I feel bile coming up my throat. I put my hand over my mouth and sprint to the bathroom, fumbling to reach the toilet. I vomit into the toilet, sweating as I slowly remember how much I drank last night. But why did I...?

"Mercy," I hear myself say out loud.

I throw up again and notice that I'm crying. I flush the toilet and grab a tissue from the bathroom counter, wiping first my eyes, then my mouth. I brush my teeth slowly to get the bitter taste of vomit and alcohol off my teeth. I walk into the doorframe and stare at my room. All four of the beds are empty.

Oh god. Oh no. I must have missed the battle...

But then I remember that there was no battle today. It's Saturday. I sigh with relief and cross the room to the dresser. I grab a gray sweatshirt and an old pair of basketball shorts. I slowly get dressed and head to the kitchen. The kitchen is empty, but there are dirty dishes and silverware in the sink. They're covered in brown gooey substance.

"Pancakes," I mutter and hear a hiccup come out of my mouth.

Tracer makes the best pancakes.

I open the cupboard above the sink and grab a mug that says '#1 Dad' in big red letters. Torbjörn had gotten that mug for me last Christmas as a joke.

"It makes sense because you're our Team Dad," he had offered.

I still laugh at that. What a great dad. A great dad that wakes up at eleven only to be hungover out of his mind. I hiccup again and walk to the coffee machine. I put a filter in the brewing basket, add the grounds, fill the reservoir, switch it on, and wait. I've truly mastered this routine by now. When the mug is full, I turn off the coffee machine and drink quickly. I want to get a head start for the gym this morning. I usually work out at twelve but I feel like I have to now. I scowl at the extra bitter taste in my throat. Alcohol doesn't mix well with coffee. I then head over to the gym, careful while walking down the stairs. I still feel like crap. I enter the gym to find Tracer working on a punching bag. She notices me when I walk in and stops punching.

"You look terrible, Jack," she says, regarding me.

"Don't push me, Lena," I say, but I smile weakly. I can't help it.

She goes back to punching the bag but keeps talking.

"Why are you up so late?" she asks.

I only shrug and groan, finding myself unable to answer her question without going into the details of my drinking binge. She is able to read my mind anyway.

"Have you been drinking again?" she inquires, eyeing me suspiciously.

I don't want to lie so I say nothing. I think she knows anyway because she pauses her workout again and sits on one of the metal benches in the gym. I take her spot at the punching bag she abandoned.

"You have, haven't you?!" she says.

"Maybe," I respond, "Why does it matter anyway?"

"Because you've been acting weird since the battle yesterday," she says.

"Weird? How have I been weird?"

"You've been quiet. Quieter than usual," she answers.

"No I haven't," I say.

I throw a right hook at the bag and it stings without gloves. My knuckles turn red.

"Yes. You have," she insists. She won't give it up.

I shrug and throw a jab with my left hand. That one hurts too.

"You didn't celebrate with us yesterday. We won! Don't you remember?"

I do remember. That was our first win in a month and I didn't even celebrate it with my team. I feel a dark cloud of guilt rise in my stomach and I find myself feeling sick again. I change the subject.

"Have you seen Ziegler?" I ask nervously.

Tracer thinks for a moment.

"Huh," she says, "I guess I haven't. She didn't come to the celebration last night either and I didn't see her in our room. But her bed looked like it had been slept in this morning. Did something happen between you two?"

"No," I say and then pause, "No, nothing happened."

I guess I'm telling the truth, in a way. Nothing happened between us and I don't think anything ever will at this point.

"Are you sure, Jack?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Happy?"

"I don't think you're telling me the truth," she says, crossing her arms.

And then I spill it. I tell Tracer everything that had happened at the battle and everything that hadn't happened. I spill everything and I don't know why but I just start to cry at the end. I've never cried in front of a teammate and it feels awful. When I finish telling her everything, I just sit there on the cold metal next to her, bawling, and she tries to comfort me like I'm a horse that's been spooked by a lawnmower.

"Wow," she says, rubbing my back to try to calm me down, "Jack, I don't know what to say."

I take my face out of my hands and look at her.

"There's nothing to say," I cry, "I fucked up and I hurt her and that's all there is to it."

Then, Tracer ends my sobs with one question:

"Do you love her, Jack?"

I freeze up and then relax my shoulders. Here is one question I know the answer to.

"Yes," I say in a quiet voice, and I wipe my eyes on the sleeve of my sweatshirt.

"Does she love you?" asks Tracer.

"I don't know if she still would," I answer after some hesitation, "After all that shit I said to her, I don't know if she'll even talk to me again."

"Why didn't you let her kiss you?," Tracer says, "What are you so afraid of?"

And the truth is, I don't know. I have no idea why I made her stop.

"I don't know," I say, "I just don't know."

We sit there silently for what feels like thirty minutes but what is probably only thirty seconds until Tracer speaks again.

"Jack...you need to talk to her."

I can't disagree with that so I just nod but then another thought comes to mind.

"What if she doesn't want to talk to me?" I ask.

"We need to be prepared for that possibility," says Tracer.

I look down at my hands, visibly upset. Tracer touches my arm and I look up.

"Look, if she doesn't want to talk to you, I'll make her talk to me," she says.

"Thanks, Lena," I say. I wipe my eyes on my sleeve again and stand up, starting towards the door.

"No problem, Jack," she says, "Anything for a friend."

I look at her and nod. I walk to the doorway where I pause as the sounds of punching start again. I look back one more time.

"Lena?" I say and she looks back at me, "If you have to tell her anything, just say that I'm sorry and I want to meet her at the fountain in Town Square. The one near the shops."

"Okay, Jack. Good Luck."

I nod again and walk out. I figure the most likely place for Mercy to be is in the girls' quarters so that's where I head first. I knock on the door lightly as my heart pounds in my chest. I hold my mouth up to the door.

"Mercy?" I say.

A response comes from inside a few seconds later.

"Who is it?" She says, her voice muffled by the door.

"It's Sol...it's Jack, Mercy. Can I come in?"

There is a moment of silence in which I just want to walk away and not face her. There's an audible sigh from behind the door.

"Jack, you're the last person I want to talk to right now," she says angrily.

"I just want to apologize," I say.

Nothing from inside.

"Look...just...If you don't want to talk now, can you just meet me in the Town Square fountain tonight?"

Her voice doesn't sound angry anymore.

"Jack, I don't know..."

"Please. Just please meet me there," I say.

There's still silence from the room and eventually, after waiting for her voice to break it, I leave feeling angry. I'm angry with myself for walking away from her yesterday. I'm angry that I didn't let her kiss me. God, why didn't I let her kiss me? I'll still go to the fountain tonight. I'll wait as long as it takes.


	3. Apology

**Hi, guys!**

 **Thank you again for all the support on the second chapter. Please give me your ideas. I would really appreciate it.**

 **I was so surprised to see that I had viewers from around the world reading my story. Thank you so much.**

 **A special thanks to anyone who took the time to follow my story. You guys are the best and I'll be sure to keep publishing chapters at least twice a week if I can for you to read.**

 **I apologize for the last chapter being so short. I didn't realize the length of it until I saw the word count after it was posted.**

 **I'll try to make this one longer. Anyway, without further ado...**

Chapter 3

I arrive in the Dorado Town Square at eight. It's deserted except for a lone street sweeper who steals suspicious glances at me every few seconds as I sit on the side of the stone fountain. I'm not wearing my mask tonight but I am wearing my jacket under a white t-shirt even though it's warm out. I keep finding myself looking down the street, hopeful that she might come around the corner. After fifteen minutes, the street sweeper leaves, but glances at me one more time, eyes narrowed, as he walks away. I'm left waiting alone in the growing darkness, spacing out on a distant street corner. I get up to stretch and walk around a bit. I notice that streamers are hanging from thin wires all around the fountain. They're shaped like little rainbow monsters with big horns at the top of their heads, and stubby little legs. I punch one but overextend my elbow, leaving me wincing in pain.

I guess I'm not a young man anymore. Maybe that's why I prefer to hit with my gun during battle.

It's been thirty minutes now, and I'm starting to lose hope. I sit back down, tired. Why am I here, anyway? She hates me now.

But I stay. I don't know why I do; maybe I'm just feeling lucky tonight. This proves to be the right choice. Fifteen minutes later, at quarter to nine, a figure emerges from around the street corner. As the figure approaches me, I make out that it's Ziegler walking towards me, her blonde hair illuminated in the streetlights. I stand up to meet her, but as I see her come into the closest circle of light, I notice that her eyes are red and puffy. I know that this is my fault and that same dark cloud of guilt from earlier today rises up to my throat. I swallow it and approach her.

"Hey, Ziegler," I say, "Can we talk?"

"That is what i came here for," she says, slight annoyance ringing behind her voice.

"I just want to apologize," I say.

"For what?" she asks, "Embarrassing me or exploding?"

"I'm sorry for everything," I say, "I'm sorry for turning away from you when you tried to kiss me and for saying that shit to you and for being such an idiot. I'm sorry for-"

"Jack, stop," she interrupts, "I forgive you. As long as you know why you hurt me, I forgive you."

I nod and sit back down on the edge of the fountain. She comes over and sits next to me.

"Jack," she begins hesitantly, "do you have feelings for me?"

I answer with little hesitation.

"Yes, Ziegler," I say, "If I'm going to be honest with you, I've had feelings for you since the day I met you."

"Okay," she says, "Answer me this."

"I'm listening."

She hesitates again, looking down at her hands and then back up.

"What are you so afraid of, Jack?"

I knock on the door to our room, seeing my fist turning red with the force. I feel tears streaking down my cheeks, angry tears. I know he's in there, and I know he's ignoring me, and that's what bothers me most about it. That's what I hate in this moment.

"Reyes!" I yell, my voice filling the silent hallway, "Reyes, you let me in or I'll kill you! I swear to god I'll kill you!"

He opens the door and stares out at me with empty eyes, the same emptiness I saw in him the day he told me he was leaving. Now he stands here, a tall black man staring me down with scornful eyes, the fire of hatred burning behind his sallow cheeks.

"It's too late, Morrison. I'm leaving and that's the end of it," he says with his teeth gritted to keep the anger from erupting out of his throat.

He begins to close the door on me, but I hold out my palm, hitting it open again. I let myself in.

"Reyes, you can't leave!" I yell, "Not now, not after all we've been through."

"Morrison, it's all said and done," he says quietly.

"No, it's not!" I say, "You've been with Overwatch since the beginning! You can't go to Blackwatch! You can't do this to me!"

"Jack," Reyes starts; he's never called me by my first name and it sounds wrong on his tongue. It's all wrong, "There is no more Overwatch. It's done. We're done!"

"No, Reyes," I say, "No! You can't do this to me. You can't do this, please, no!"

But he's forcing me out, pushing me away. I recall the last thing he says to me so clearly.

"Morrison, this isn't for you. This is for me. I'm done playing your little games."

And he slams the door.

I look Mercy right in the eyes.

"I'm afraid of being hurt again. After Reyes. I just don't want to lose you too," I say.

"Jack," she says, "Reyes...he abandoned us. He made his own choice, a choice that I would never make. He was a terrible friend to you. To all of us."

"I cared about him, Ziegler," I say, tears in my eyes, "He was my best friend."

"He betrayed you, Jack," she answers, and I know that she's right, "I would never do that to you."

My hand rests on the edge of the fountain next to my lap and she picks it up, lacing her fingers through mine. I squeeze her hand and start to cry, slow tears coming out of my eyes.

"I miss him," I say, "I can't help but miss him."

I know that I should let go, but it's hard.

"Jack," she says, "he was never good to you, but I will be if you just let me-"

I kiss her instead. I just need to let go of Reyes, so I hold her face in my hands and press my lips to hers, as she brings her arms up to lace her fingers through my hair. I want to stay in this moment forever, kissing her, loving her. I stroke her soft cheeks and she holds on to me like she never wants to let go. We go back to the base because it's getting cold out and I lay her down on the couch in the living room. I lean down to kiss her face and she takes off my jacket. Next comes my shirt. I do the same to her, unbuttoning her blouse.

"Are you sure you want to?" I whisper.

"Yes," she gasps.

I wake up the next morning on the living room couch, sunlight streaming through the wide glass window in little streaks. I sit up and stretch, the blanket falling off of my lap. Mercy isn't here anymore. I assume she went to the gym to do her morning training. I'm still in a good mood from last night until I see Reinhardt come into the room from the adjacent kitchen. He eyes at me suspiciously, looking me up and down.

"Good morning," he says slowly, "You didn't come back to our room last night."

I try to come up with an excuse other than 'Oh, yeah. That's because I slept with Mercy on the living room couch.'

"I was training when everyone fell asleep," I say unconvincingly, "I didn't want to wake anyone up when I came in the room."

"Really...at midnight?" he asks.

"Yeah, midnight," I answer, "I lost track of the time."

He nods and lets the topic go, but still looks at me like he accuses me of something. A thought flashes across my mind. What if he saw? Or if he didn't, what would he do if he found out? I push the thought away and pick up my shirt off the floor. I pull it on over my head and put on my jeans next. I fold the blanket and put it over the back of the couch. I go to the kitchen and make coffee, drinking it quickly so I can get to the gym before ten. I go to the gym hoping Mercy's there, but see Tracer instead.

"Hey, Jack," says Tracer, a devious grin on her face, "If you were looking for Mercy, you just missed her."

"What's up with you this morning?" I ask, looking at her suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing," she replies, waving me off, "In fact, it's been a great morning. I got up at four to get some water from the kitchen and you won't believe what I saw."

"What did you see?" I ask, knowing the answer.

"An owl!" says Tracer, "A big brown owl just sitting outside the window! I think it might have been watching you and Mercy sleep."

"Oh my god," I say, laughing in disbelief, "Does anyone else know?"

"I didn't tell anyone, if that's what you mean," she says.

"Good," I say.

"Would it really be that bad if anyone knew?" she asks.

"Well, Reinhardt would be against it," I say, sitting down on a rowing machine, "You know his rules."

"Right," she says, drawing the i out, "No relationships on zis team."

"Nice accent," I say, "You sound just like him."

"Oh, stop," she says sarcastically.

I start to row back and forth in silence, thinking over what a conversation with Reinhardt would be if he found out. I start to worry for real this time.


	4. Promise

**Hi, guys!**

 **I'm, once again, over the moon to see the results of chapter 3. Thank you so much if you read it and even more if you left a review. It tells me that you want to see more.**

 **I didn't write anything on this week simply because I had no time. I didn't come home from school until eleven because of a big concert for my band class on Wednesday and I had tests and quizzes for the rest of the week. I apologize but I couldn't write because of school.**

 **I hope to start writing slightly longer chapters, but I do not know where I want the story to go next. This is why I really want you to leave suggestions. I need some ideas to keep writing the story. Please leave those in the comment section below the story.**

Chapter 4

After I finish working out, I head to the kitchen to eat lunch, but stop when I hear hushed voices from the other side of the kitchen door.

"I'm telling you, there is something going on with him," Reinhardt says, his voice muffled.

"Now, don't just go making assumptions," McCree answers.

I listen for other voices, but I don't hear anything.

"He slept on the couch," Reinhardt says a little louder. He's talking about me.

I press my ear closer to the door to hear McCree's response.

"Maybe he was telling the truth," says McCree, "You know, he's not one to tell a lie."

A deep sigh comes from the kitchen.

"Just think about it," insists Reinhardt, "His clothes on the floor...the shoes."

Shoes?

"Those could've been from anyone, maybe earlier in the day."

"They were on top of his clothes," says Reinhardt, "Women's sandals on top of his clothes."

Oh, no. Mercy's sandals; she must have forgotten them when she left.

"Well, whose were they?" says McCree.

"There can only be two options," says Reinhardt.

I don't want to hear anymore so I walk in and pretend that I don't know they were talking about me. I see the surprise on their faces when I come in and I o to the counter to make a sandwich.

"Do either of you know where the bread is?" I ask, trying to settle the obvious tension in the room.

"In the cabinet farthest to the right," says McCree casually.

"Thanks," I say, reaching for the bread.

I grab the bread then open the fridge and take out the cheese and turkey. I make my sandwich, all the while feeling Reinhardt and McCree watching me. I shake their stare from my back and go the the kitchen counter. I sit down next to Reinhardt and start to eat.

"Have you seen Mercy this morning, by any chance?" says Reinhardt.

I only shrug and take a bite of my sandwich. I haven't seen her. She's probably in the recreation room, drawing. She likes to draw in her free time. She's good at it, too.

"Maybe in the recreation room," I tell him, "She likes to draw in there, you know."

"I know," he says.

"What have you been up to today?" asks McCree.

"Not much," I say, "Working out, mostly. Thinking about tomorrow."

"Where are we fighting?" asks Reinhardt.

"Numbani, I think," McCree answers.

"Yeah," I say, "Numbani."

Reinhardt nods, looking around the room.

I finish my sandwich quickly and get up to leave. I want to find Mercy and tell her about what Reinhardt found.

"I'm gonna go shower," I say, "See you later."

McCree waves goodbye. I go to the recreation room to see if Mercy's there. I walk in the door and, sure enough, I see her sitting at the table in the corner with her drawing pad. I walk over to see what she's working on. She looks up at me and smiles. I look at the paper and see a woman holding a mask to her face. The mask has feathers sticking off of one of the corners and sequins covering it. It looks like something straight out of a New Orleans parade.

"Wow," I say, meaning it, "You're good, Ziegler."

"Thanks, but it's really nothing," she says.

"I mean it. You're really good."

She smiles again and leans up to kiss me. Her lips feel good on mine.

"You're too sweet, Jack," she whispers between kisses.

I love this, this moment, but I need to tell her what happened. I pull away and sit down next to her, taking her hand on the table.

"Is something wrong?" she asks, leaning back in her chair.

"Sort of," I say, "Do you remember leaving your shoes in the living room this morning?"

Her eyes widen.

"Oh no," she responds, "Who found them? Do they know?"

"Reinhardt found them," I answer, "And I think he might have an idea of what happened."

"Why? Did he say anything to you? Did you tell him something?"

I hesitate.

"Tell me, Jack," she insists.

"He kind of woke me up this morning," I say nervously, "He was acting like he knew something."

"Are you sure he does?" she asks.

"I think so. I overheard him talking to McCree about how there are only two possibilities of who they might have belonged to."

"The other one being Tracer?"

I nod.

She opens her mouth and closes it again, as if she wants to say something.

"Would...would it really be that bad if anyone knew?" she finally says, "I mean, what would be the worst that could happen?"

I think about my answer. What would happen? Could we get kicked off the team for something like this? Is that possible?

"I don't know," I say, "I just think we have to be careful who we tell."

"Right. Does anyone know? Besides maybe Reinhardt?"

"Tracer does," I say.

"Well, that's not bad," she says, "But how?"

"She told me she got up early to get water and saw an owl watching us."

Mercy laughs, the wrinkles around her eyes showing.

"Of course she did!" says Mercy, wiping her eyes with her sweater sleeve.

I smile, imagining Tracer coming downstairs in the middle of the night, her mouth dropping open when she sees us.

"Alright," says Mercy, her laughter dying down, "We just need to make sure Torbjörn doesn't know."

"Of course," I say.

I run my fingers through her head and kiss her, moving with her. I'm so taken that I don't notice when the door opens and McCree walks in. We both pull away, but it's too late. He already saw us.

"Look," he says before either of us can come up with an excuse, "I won't tell anyone."

"Thank you," we both say simultaneously.

"Under one condition," he adds.

We stare at him.

"Don't let your little love affair ruin our chances in battle. Got it?"

We nod and I thank him again.

"Please just don't tell Reinhardt," I plead.

"I said I'll keep your secret," he says, "As long as y'all don't decide to fuck during battle."

"Alright," says Mercy, "I promise."

She looks over at me.

"Promise," I say.

"Good. Then I'll leave you to it," says McCree and leaves the room.


	5. Shock

**Hi, everyone!**

 **I am so happy to announce that we have reached 1,000 views on this story, a number I never thought I would reach!**

 **Thank you all so much for sticking with it.**

 **Also, I owe you all an apology for my absence this last week. I was on vacation, skiing in Utah, and the week has been hectic due to Hanukkah, but I'm back now, and hoping to work harder than ever.**

 **This chapter is a long one, and I worked very hard on it, so please show support by commenting and leaving a favorite if you liked it.**

 **I will once again ask for feedback if you have any. Anyway, enjoy chapter five.**

 **Happy Holidays!**

Chapter 5

Beep, beep, beep. I turn to my side and slap the top of my alarm clock to turn it off. I slowly sit up in bed and stretch my arms over my head. Reinhardt and McCree are already up, getting dressed in their battle attire. We attack at Numbani today. I slide out of bed and go to the wardrobe where they're getting ready.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," says Reinhardt.

"Morning, guys," I respond.

McCree is quiet, regarding me with a nod and a weak smile. I nod back and smile.

I grab a black workout turtleneck and a pair of brown pants. I put them on and get my jacket from the top shelf. I go to the bathroom we share with the girls to comb my hair. Tracer's already in there, brushing her teeth.

"Hey, Jack," she says, "You ready for today?"

"Yeah," I say, "I hope we can win again."

"Sure, we can," she says, "If you don't jinx it."

"What are you, nine?" I say, and we both laugh.

I finish brushing my teeth and head back into my room to get shoes. I quickly pull them on and walk out into the hallway. I go to the kitchen and make coffee while I wait for the others. Mercy exits her room, clad in shining armor and drifts over to me to get coffee as well. Everyone slowly comes out of their respective room until we're all seated at the kitchen bar.

"Do we have a plan?" asks Torbjörn, looking up at me from his adjacent seat.

"Torbjörn, you build your turret wherever you think you need to. Remember, we're attacking, so you should move it around to help with any situation."

"Yes, sir," says Torbjörn, giving a jolly salute in my direction.

I look at Tracer, sitting on the other side of the counter.

"Tracer, stick with me while we capture the point. I'll run to keep up. Reinhardt, do your own thing. Watch the area and protect whoever needs help with your shield."

Reinhardt nods, his white hair falling over his eyes.

"Mercy, heal whoever needs it."

"Of course," she says.

"Let's go, then."

I put my mug in the sink as we all leave the kitchen for the hangar. I enter the ship first, pulling my tactical visor and pulse rifle off of the weapons rack. I flip the visor over my eyes and take a seat next to the first aid pod. Everyone but Torbjörn takes their seats. Torbjörn hobbles up the steps to the control panel and inputs our location. He comes back down and sits next to me.

"Buckle up, everyone," I instruct, "It's gonna be a fast ride."

The click of six buckles echoes throughout the ship and a rumble starts below my feet. We start to move, slowly at first, and then faster and faster until the jets at the bottom of the ship push us up and we begin to speed towards Africa. We soar through the clouds at hypersonic speed and reach the Numbani Overwatch air terminal in a little over ten minutes. We get off the ship and ride down the escalators to our preparation room.

"Welcome to Numbani, the city of harmony," Athena says over the loudspeaker nestled in the corner of the dome-shaped ceiling, "Your objective for today will be to attack. You must first get past the enemy team in order to capture the control point, objective A. You will then push the payload to the end of the track. Good luck. Your mission begins in thirty seconds."

"Alright, everyone," I command, "Gather here."

My teammates huddle close, arms draped around each other's shoulders.

"Today, all we have to do is focus on the objective. If we can score another win today, I'd say we're golden. You got me? No distractions."

They all nod at me, eyebrows drawn in, and then McCree looks at me.

"He's right about that last part," he says, still looking at me, "No distractions, especially for you, Morrison."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I inquire, although I already know the answer.

"Well, you're team captain," McCree responds, "You call the shots. We can't have you messing up."

Tracer cuts in.

"You won't mess up, Jack," says Tracer encouragingly.

"Of course not," I say, giving McCree a secretive glare. McCree reflects it back at me and I look away.

"3, 2, 1," begins Tracer, glad to break the obvious tension in the circle.

"Team!" we all shout, and break the circle, dispersing towards the metal gates.

"Ten seconds remaining," states Athena as we huddle behind the glass, hoping to get a glimpse at the enemy team's position.

"5, 4, 3, 2, 1," says Athena, and the doors slide open, revealing bright sunlight.

I step out of the air terminal, and scan the street for enemies. Walking quietly, I step into a coffee shop across the street from the terminal, Tracer by my side. The rest of the team walks next to a large green bus adjacent to the shop. This coffee shop looks abandoned, like everyone in it just up and left. Suddenly, the sound of explosions pierces my ears, and I look out the window to see Junkrat, the sweat on his faces glowing with the sunlight. He launches a grenade at the team and they all dodge it, except for Mercy, who sees it only as it explodes under her legs forcing her onto the sidewalk. I notice a dark shape materialize behind Junkrat's shoulder, only to disappear into the building next to to the coffee shop. Reaper's on the watch.

"Oh, shoot," cries Tracer, seeing Mercy, and we rush out of the shop to join our team.

Mercy wields her pistol, shooting aimlessly at the junker. Junkrat launches another bomb, which hits Mercy directly in the head, and she dies on the spot, only about thirty seconds into the battle. Junkrat escapes with only a scratch on his ear from where one of Mercy's bullets grazed him. He laughs as he runs away, and I try to chase him down but am unable to, as he disappears around the corner to find what is probably the rest of his team. I go back to our group, huddled next to the bus.

"Disperse, everyone," I say, "What's done is done. We need to find them before they find us."

They respond to my order quickly and disperse to their different positions around the city. I stick with Tracer while Reinhardt and McCree go to approach the enemies at the point, Reinhardt holding his shield out in front of himself and McCree. Torbjörn disappears into a clothing store across the street to find a proper nest for his turret.

"Where to, Jack?" asks Tracer.

"Let's go in there," I decide, pointing to the building next to the coffee shop, "I saw Reaper sneak in. At least, I thought it was him."

"Alright," she says, "I'll lead the way."

"Careful," I warn, "I don't know what he's up to."

"When am I not?"

She punches me playfully on the arm and blinks in. I follow suit, sticking close behind her. The building is dimly lit by a small light bulb, which dangles above a rack displaying button-down shirts. There are other displays like this one, scattered around the room, displaying pants, t-shirts, and others. Next to the rack with the button-down shirts, I notice a staircase leading up to another area not quite visible from where I stand. Tracer points up the staircase and begins to ascend it, tiptoeing as to not give away her position to a man in a black coat. I follow her up the stairs to a landing, where we take another flight, leading up farther. We then emerge on a high balcony, where we can see objective A, a glowing yellow outline, taunting us from below. On the point, McCree and Reinhardt are battling Mei and Symmetra. Symmetra has turrets set up around the Payload, and they're pushing our teammates back from the point. Mei and McCree each have their respective guns pointed at each other, both dodging shots. I can't see Junkrat anywhere.

"Come on," I cry, my voice keeping a steady tone, even though butterflies crawl in my stomach.

We both take a step to the staircase leading back down, but before either of us can get anywhere, we're each grasped by a strong hand.

"Nice try," says a thick Russian accent coming from behind us.

The hands whip us around and we're caught staring into the angry face of Zarya. Her giant gun is on the floor at her feet and she makes a grab at it before either of us are prepared to fight. She swings her weapon in a wide sweeping motion at Tracer's head, but Tracer ducks, making Zarya sear the wall behind us. Zarya loses her balance and spins around, giving Tracer and me enough time to start firing our weapons. By the time Zarya regains balance, she's fatally wounded. We continue to fire, causing more damage until Zarya crumples to the ground, dead. Tracer and I rush back down the stairs, blinking and sprinting to get to our struggling allies. On the way over to the point, we catch a glimpse of Widowmaker standing on top of an advertisement pillar featuring Lució. She machine-guns her way through Torbjörn's level two turret, only for Torbjörn to finish the turret's job with his own gun. Widowmaker tumbles off of the pillar, landing a good distance away from me. We show up at the point just as Torbjörn starts building a new turret.

"Oh, shit," Tracer exclaims.

"McCree's cornered," I say.

On the point, Reinhardt charges past the payload, skimming and knocking out two of the sentries previously positioned on the side. He tries to direct his charge towards Symmetra, but she jumps out of the way, connecting her weapon's ray to his chest, which has already been wounded by the sentries. He runs into a wall and quickly regains his posture, materializing his shield in front of him to block Symmetra's rays. In the corner where the building's wings meet at a ninety degree angle, McCree is frozen in Mei's ice pod. Mei takes a shot at his head and makes it, instantly killing McCree. I notice something fly out of the open doorway of the l-shaped building next to the point. It crosses the point and begins to roll down the wide slope in the street but explodes in front of Reinhardt's shield, causing damage to it. Tracer and I run up to help him, but Symmetra sees me and a ball of hard-light charges at my chest, knocking me on the ground. Tracer sees me on the ground, cries out, and shoots at her. Symmetra fires another orb, but Tracer dodges it, blinking to the right. Tracer continues to shoot at Symmetra, and finishes the job, saving Reinhardt, who now runs to a nearby building to look for health.

"I can heal you here!" I yell to Reinhardt, struggling to my feet, "I need it, too."

"Thank you," Reinhardt puffs as he heads over, "Incredible work, Tracer!"

"Yeah," I copy, "You really saved the old guy's ass. Mine, too."

"I'm just as old as you, Jack," proclaims Reinhardt.

He slaps me on the back, nearly sending me to the ground again. I stay on my feet and pull out my biotic field, placing it on the ground in front of me. We gather in the glowing circle of light, recovering as Torbjörn exits the building where his turret was, lifting his protection mask to wipe sweat from his shiny brow.

"Well, what do you say we capture the point," he says, joining us as the biotic field disappears into it's capsule. I pick it up and put it into my pant strap.

"Definitely," I say, "You guys take that. I'll go get Junkrat. I think he's in there," I say, pointing at the building where the bomb came out of.

"Sounds like a plan," says Tracer, and they step on the point as I enter the empty doorway of the structure, careful not to make too much noise.

I tip-toe down a short hallway and emerge out of another door, coming face to face with the rat himself. I start to shoot at him, and that does some good damage, but he punches me in the face and steps away. I can't keep my balance and fall to the floor, scrambling to get the health pack that hovers in front of a brown oak desk. I land on it and sigh with relief as the pain disappears. I point my gun up and shoot at his chest. It kills him almost instantly after the damage I did before he hit me. I get to my feet and leap away to escape the bombs.

"I got Junkrat," I say into the headset built into my visor, "You guys alright out there?"

"Yeah," Tracer's voice says back to me, "We just captured the objective and we're getting ready to move the payload now."

"Alright," I respond, "Have y-"

I'm interrupted as a bullet penetrates my stomach, knocking me into the desk. I stare up frantically to find Reaper, his mask seeming to scowl down at me. He laughs in his maniacal tone and shoots me again in the shoulder. I begin to feel weak and sink to my knees as his pressure releases. My gun is angled under his chin from the ground and I start firing upwards helplessly. He grunts as his white skull-like mask flies from his face and lands in a musty corner behind the desk. The gunpowder clears from his face and I drop my gun in shock, feeling blinded by the sight before me, the face I have tried so hard to forget.

Faint lines mimicking his old battle scars pierce his skin, a pale, dead porcelain layer lying on top of the chocolatey brown I remember so well. His eyes are dead as well, a pitch black glinting in the florescent lighting. He used to have a goatee and mustache, replaced now by sharp white stubble. His eyebrows are gone. He still has a bald head, but his skull seems to have sunk along with his cheekbones. His nose seems sharper compared to how it used to be; soft and straight.

"Reyes," I gasp.

"Its about time you knew, Morrison," he snarls after the initial shock of his absent mask.

"How did you-," I begin.

"How did I know it was you?" he finishes, and his lips pull back in a type of dry grin.

"I...but you died! How...," I stutter, unable to finish.

"You're right," Reyes says, clapping his hands together as if to mock a sudden realization. He cackles again, dryly.

"And, let's just say an old friend fixed me right back up."

These are his last words to me as he points one pistol at my head and pulls the trigger.

I appear in the ship a few seconds later, frozen in shock. I stand in one place as Mercy drops a book she was reading on the couch and rushes over to me.

"Jack?" she says, concern in her voice, "You look pale. Is everything alright?"

"No," I say, "It's Reyes...Reaper...he's Reyes...Gabe..."

She puts her arms around my shoulders, confusion in her voice as she shakes me back and forth, trying to get another word out of me, but it's too late. I collapse on the floor, my vision darkening, fading out...fading...fading away.


	6. Trust

**Hey, everybody!**

 **I'm so glad to announce a happy New Year. Hopefully, we get past 2017 alright. *ahem* Hollyweed *ahem***

 **Anyway, all jokes aside, I hope everyone enjoyed my last chapter. I tried to make it a real shocker! I hope it lived up to it.**

 **Please enjoy this one as well.**

Chapter 6

I open my eyes only to squint against a fluorescent light above my head. I try to sit up, but my head pounds. I cry out and press my palm against my temple, trying to dull the pain. My vision straightens from a blur, and I find that I'm in the medical ward at our base back in Dorado.

God, what happened to me? I think, trying to get my thoughts together. And, like a lightning bolt in my brain, it all comes back to me.

I saw Reyes, but he was Reaper. Was it a dream? A really awful nightmare? I wish it was but I know the truth.

I glance around the medical ward to find that I'm alone. A clock on the wall opposite me reads 6:34. How long was I out? Suddenly, a sharp stinging feeling appears in my right ankle and I clench my teeth in agony, waiting for it to dull down. I slowly pull the sheets off of my legs and see that my ankle is wrapped up in some medical fabric. I try to move it but I feel that same pain again, and I just sit back against my pillow.

I jump a little when the door to the medbay opens and Mercy makes herself present. She shuffles over to my bed, nervously, I observe.

"Hello, Jack," she says.

"Hey, Ziegler," I mutter, surprised at how hoarse my voice sounds. I clear my throat. She sits down on the bed in the space my legs aren't taking up.

"How long have you been up?" she asks, turning my arm over to look at the IV, pumping numbing medicine into my veins.

"Just woke up, maybe less than a minute ago," I answer, "Did we win?"

She sighs, and I know the answer.

"No, we didn't," she says, with sadness in her tone.

I sigh and lean back against my pillow again, looking up at the ceiling. She cups my cheek in her hand, pushes my hair aside, and kisses my forehead.

"Jack, what...who did you see? What were you trying to say before you passed out?"

I take a shaky breath through my mouth and lick my dry lips.

"I saw my best friend and my worst enemy, Ziegler," I say quietly, "I saw the man under Reaper's mask. I saw Gabriel Reyes."

We sit on the bed in silence for a minute and then I speak again.

"Does anyone else know?" I ask, and then the dreaded question: "Did you know?"

The answer that comes to her lips is one that makes me question everything about us, and where my trust lies, if anywhere.

"I saved his life, Jack," she says, looking straight into my eyes.

I feel a mixture of anger, confusion, sadness, and a million other emotions rising in my heart and I just want to scream. I want to punch a hole in the wall. I want to run out of the room, out of the building, out of this goddamn city, and just keep running, but I don't.

I say, "Just tell me what happened."

She touches my hand, but I yank it away because the anger still takes over the sadness.

"He was ready to leave when the Swiss Headquarters exploded," she begins, "That much you know. But you were told that he died in the attack, which is the truth, but you didn't know that I saved him. When the dust settled, I found you in the rubble. I thought you were dead, that I was the only one not injured, but I needed hope. That's why I took you and brought you to safety. I brought you to my childhood home and kept you there. After my parents died, they left the house to me. Remember?"

I nod.

"Well, I had you there for about two weeks. I fed you and helped you walk as you recovered. I thought everyone else had died in the explosion but Reyes was the only one who had. One day, I got a call from a woman who went by the name of Sombra. I asked her who she was, and she said that it was none of my business; that all I needed to know was that she worked for Blackwatch. She said that they had taken Reyes. They needed a doctor. I declined at first because I did not want to be affiliated with Blackwatch, but I thought about it. I thought about Reyes. I took the opportunity, but first, I asked Sombra why they needed me. She told me that they had tried to find someone before me. They asked a Brazilian man named Lúcio, who had invented a device which could heal people by emitting a song. He's a DJ, and he is highly requested for his genius, incorporating music into medicine. He declined because he was against Blackwatch, Symmetra in particular. I do not know why. Something about a company she worked for. They tried an Omnic monk named Tekhartha Zenyatta. He works at a Shambali Monastery in the Nepali mountains. He gladly accepted, but Zarya did not. See, her village was attacked by Omnics, and they slaughtered her family. She is unforgiving of the Omnics, even though Zenyatta works to create peace between humans and Omnics. They also called upon Ana, though she declined for many reasons. She lost an eye in the explosion and was recovering. She was also training her daughter for the Egyptian military. Do you remember Fareeha?"

"Yeah," I say, "Fareeha Amari. God, it's been a while."

"It has," she replies solemnly, "Anyway, they called me last. Sombra said that I was their last hope to save Reyes. I began to feel like I would regret it if I didn't. You still hadn't woken up. I was working at improving your heart rate. So, I left for Blackwatch Headquarters in Russia. They had medical technology at Blackwatch that I never knew existed. However, they did not know how to use it. I made a deal with them. I told them that I would save Reyes, but they would have to give me some of their medical technology. I did it to help you, Jack. I saved Reyes in about an hour, but he was never the same after that. He was so angry, and his skin had gone sickly, the color of a corpse. That was the Reyes you saw today. I was ready to take him to you, to keep him in Overwatch. But Blackwatch didn't want that. Neither did Reyes. He was ready to leave Overwatch anyway, is what he told me. Then, he became Reaper. I think he was ashamed of himself. He wanted to start over, maybe. So he started wearing a mask and a cloak, and became Reaper. I went back to you after that, with the new technology, and I used it to save you. You almost died, but Blackwatch saved you."

"No, they didn't!" I yell, anger for Reyes and Blackwatch bubbling up again, "You saved me! Blackwatch didn't do it for me! They did it for their new little minion, Reaper!"

"Jack, calm down," Mercy coaxes.

"No!" I yell, "I won't calm down! You would've helped me anyway! You didn't need their technology! You lied to me for Reyes! You lied for Reaper!"

She stands up and paces the floor.

"Jack!" she yells, "I saved Reyes because you would have wanted me to! Not because I'm disloyal to Overwatch! For god's sake, I answered to recall! Do you not understand what you're accusing me of, Jack?! Are you that selfish?! I needed the technology for you, Jack! Tell me, do you really think I would do that to hurt you?!"

"Maybe you would, Angela!" I spit, "At this point, I don't know! I don't know you!"

A silence ensues, and it's a painful one. I become faintly aware of the tears falling down my cheeks, splitting onto the epoxy flooring. She's crying too, looking down at her hands.

"You can trust me because I'm loyal to you, Jack," she croaks, "I love you. I love you, Jack. Why isn't that enough? You spend your whole life asking yourself if you can trust people, but you need to decide for yourself. Trust comes from within you, and you need to decide when to use it. Goodbye, Jack."

She walks out, closing the door quietly behind her.


	7. Friends (Part 1)

**Hi, guys!**

 **I hope you guys enjoyed the last chapter and were surprised by the big reveal in the previous one.**

 **As I said before, I have been trying to write more frequently for you guys, although school has started again and I'll be partly busy with homework, I will try to get new chapters out at least every three days.**

 **I want to thank everyone who wrote reviews for me. Today, I was having a bad morning and school sucked, so I checked my reviews and saw one that really made my day. Thank you so much. I really do appreciate it.**

 **Please enjoy chapter seven!**

Chapter 7

I wake up the next morning in the men's quarters, my leg throbbing painfully. It's 6:00 AM and I'm the first up. I walk to the bathroom to brush my teeth and hair and, when I come out, McCree is out of bed, standing at the open closet.

"Morning, Jack," he says groggily.

"Hey, Jesse," I respond. I head to the closet to get ready. McCree fastens his belt, the buckle shining with the letters B.A.M.F.

"Just what in the hell happened to you yesterday?" he inquires. "You looked like you'd seen a ghost, spawning in the ship. What was that crap you said before you passed out?"

I remain quiet and pull a black shirt over my head.

"We don't keep no secrets on this team, so you better tell me wha-"

"Reyes, Jesse," I growl.

"Wait, are you talking about Gabriel Reyes?" McCree cries. "Are you out of your goddamn mind, boy? Gabriel Reyes is dead, long dead!"

Reinhardt stirs in his slumber, turning to face the wall.

"Keep it down, will you?" I hiss, not wanting to wake the sleeping giant and Swedish dwarf in the beds across the room.

"What do you mean, Jack?" says McCree, quieter now.

"Can we please just talk about this later?" I say.

"No secrets, Jack," he insists.

"Fine," I say, defeated. "But you can't tell Reinhardt, or anyone else. Jesse, you need to promise me you won't say a word."

"That's a promise. Now, what happened," asks McCree.

I look uneasily at Reinhardt, stirring in his sleep again, and grab McCree by the elbow to take him outside.

"What the-" begins McCree.

"Just keep walking, Jesse," I groan, pulling at his arm. "Listen. We can't talk in here. No one can know what I'm about to tell you."

He doesn't respond but stops resisting my pull and walks out into the hallway with me. He leans against the wall and gestures to me as if to say "Go on. Tell."

So I tell him everything as quickly as possible, starting with what happened after the Swiss Headquarters was blown up and ending with my fight with Ziegler. When I finish, he stares at me with solemn but shocked eyes.

"We've been fighting Reaper for almost a year, Jack. How could we have not known?" McCree says.

"No one told us," I respond.

"Did anyone besides Angela know the truth?"

"I have no idea," I reply.

All of a sudden, the door to our room opens and Reinhardt steps out in full armor and stretches his arms over his head, mouth agape with a yawn. He sees us in the hall and squints his eyes suspiciously.

"What are you doing out here?" he grunts, walking over to us. I hold my breath, my lungs squeezing in nervously.

"We both woke up early and went to play pool in the rec room," says McCree, covering for us. "Thanks," I mouth behind Reinhardt's back. McCree half-grins.

"Well, get ready for today," Reinhardt says. "We're going to Ilios."

"Sure," I say, and start to walk toward the door but stop to ask Reinhardt something. "Is anyone else up?" I ask.

"Angela's in the bathroom," he says. "And Tracer's awake, but she's getting dressed. Don't go in there."

"I won't," McCree and I assure in unison. We walk back down the hall to the quarters.

I go to the closet to finish getting dressed while McCree heads into the bathroom to get rid of his pungent morning breath. I see Mercy's yellow hair out of the corner of my eye, settled against a white tank top, but I don't go to say hello. I know that she probably hates me right now and I need to give her space. But then I remember what she said. When she told me she loves me. I don't know if that's true anymore. I shake my head, as if I'm shaking away the thought.

I take a pair of army pants off of a rack in the closet and pull them on over my still clean boxers. Then, I put my boots on. Lastly, I grab my prized leather jacket with the big, red 76 on the back off of the top shelf and put it on. I zip it up and I'm ready to go.

McCree leaves the bathroom and we walk to the kitchen together. I start to make coffee.

"Her eyes were all red," says McCree in a low voice from the counter.

"What? Who?" I ask, confused.

"Angela," he answers. "She was definitely crying."

"Shit, Jesse," I say, walking to the counter to wait for the coffee. "It's my fault. I never should have said what I said."

"I can't disagree with you on that, Jack," mutters McCree, and pushes his toast around on his plate with his finger.

"I fucked up," I say.

He nods in response. We sit in silence for a minute as I wait for my coffee to be done.

"You know, Jes," I start, "She said she loves me. She really meant that. How could I say that to her, how could I tell her that I couldn't trust her."

"Well, Jack...I don't know," says McCree. "Do you think you can trust her?"

Before I can answer, the door to the girls' room opens and Tracer walks out, with Mercy following close behind. Her eyes are red, rimmed with black. She stares down at the floor.

"Morning, ladies," McCree greets, pulling the brim of his hat slightly down in a polite gesture.

"Hey, Jesse," replies Tracer giddily.

"Hello, McCree," Mercy says quietly with a forced smile.

Tracer sits down across from me and Mercy sits next to her, looking anywhere but at me.

"Hi, Jack," greets Tracer.

"Hey," I answer. I get up to grab the coffee from the machine and get my #1 Dad mug from the cabinet. I pour some coffee and sit back down as Torbjörn walks out of our quarters.

"Hello," he says, jolly as usual. Greetings are exchanged and Torbjörn sits down at the end of the table, struggling to mount the barstool.

"So," he says to me. "What's the plan, Stan?"

"Alright," I begin. "We're attacking at Ilios today. It's King of the Hill, so both teams will be trying to get on the objective at the same time. I say we attack when they don't expect it. We need to plan ahead. We didn't do that last time, and I think that's what got us into trouble. We'll cut through a side passage and come out onto the bridge after they get to the point. We'll attack them while they're capping it. After that, all we need to do is fight them off. Since they don't have a healer, they won't have support. On the other hand, we will."

I glance at Mercy, unable to help myself and find her listening intently. That's good.

"They won't see it coming so they won't be ready when we attack. For the next round, we do the same thing, but we split up. We'll be at the lighthouse, so there are plenty of ways to get to the point. Hopefully, there won't be a third round, but if there is, we stick to our plan from the first round. We'll go behind the safe-house to the left of the point and emerge from there to attack. They might not see it coming because we had a different plan for the previous round. If we do this right, it shouldn't backfire. Are we clear?"

They all nod in unison. I get up and the team follows me to the air hangar. My leg hurts when I walk on it and I clench my teeth.

"I'll heal it when I get my staff," says Mercy, seeing my limp. I nod.

We get to the ship and grab our weapons from the rack. I put my tactical visor over my eyes, nose, and mouth. We walk into the ship and Mercy points her Caduceus staff at me. I feel a familiar warmth course through my veins and my leg instantly feels better.

"Thanks," I murmur.

I sit down in a seat in between McCree and Tracer. Torbjörn waddles up the stairs to input the location on the ship's monitor. He then comes back down and sits across from us, next to Mercy. He buckles his seatbelt and we take off. We ride mostly in silence except for McCree.

"Got a light, Jack?" asks McCree halfway through the ride. He holds a fat Rocky Patel in between his index and middle fingers.

"Sure," I say, pulling a neon green lighter from my jacket pocket. I flick it on, lighting the color-flecked end of the cigar. He puffs like a locomotive through the second half of the ride.

We arrive in Ilios in a little under five minutes and get out of the ship only to be blinded by sunlight. The courtyard is filled with an eerie silence and we form in a circle on the ancient stones. We do our team cheer to give the other team the chance the te to the point, as I planned. Torbjörn counts off and we fling our hands into the hot summer sky.

"Team!" we shout, then break up the circle.

We walk across cracked stone toward the bridge next to the point. The ground is worn in areas and weeds grow through most of the cracks in between the stone slabs. I feel the smoke from McCree's cigar, warm and dry on the back of my already sweating neck.

"Alright, everyone," I say quietly as I duck into the shade of at white, sun-dried mud shelter. "We need to be completely quiet here. We're close to the bridge and I think I can hear them on the point."

I listen closely and hear a high voice, Australian, from the point.

"It's a great day for some mayhem!" yells Junkrat distantly. He cackles, and the sound travels all the way up here, growing louder as we get closer to the bridge.

I can see the thin plank of wood, the bridge, from where I stand. I creep closer and wait, trying to pick up more voices.

"Where are they?" Zarya questions.

"I don't know," says another voice, possibly Mei, "but I'm getting tired of waiting."

"Wait no more," I taunt, keeping my voice low.

I look over my shoulder at McCree and nod my head forward, gesturing to go. He nods a yes and we run forward onto the wooden bridge, breaking into the sun with our guns at the ready.

I drop in first, surprising Junkrat, who has his back to me until my boots make a loud bang behind him. Junkrat swivels around and launches a bomb, which skims my right shoulder and flies away without pain. I shoot at his head getting in a critical hit, but he's already prepared his concussion mine, which he throws at my head, setting it off and making my ears ring for a few seconds. I start shooting again and my bullets scatter all over his thin, bare chest. He dies, falling backward onto tough stone. The rest of my team has jumped in now, with the exception of Torbjörn, who has built a turret on the bridge and is now upgrading it. Reinhardt fights next to me. He swings his hammer at Mei, bringing it down on her chest. She clutches her breasts and stumbles back. Regaining her posture, Mei closes her eyes and generates a cocoon of ice around her body to regain health. Reinhardt prepares to charge her into the wall when she breaks free. He charges just as the ice shatters around Mei in smaller chunks. He pins her to a wall, the immense force knocking her dead.

"I need healing," I cry.

"So do I," yells Mercy, rushing over to where I am.

I pull out my biotic field and slam it on the ground, creating a familiar yellow circle of light.

"Thanks," she sighs, looking at the ground.

"Who got you?" I ask, as yellow tendrils crawl warmly under my skin, closing my wounds.

"I didn't see them," Mercy replies.

"Widowmaker," we both claim at once.

"I'll go look for her," I suggest. "You should stay here; help out."

She nods as the yellow field surrounding us closes into its capsule. I pick it up and head off as Mercy heals McCree, who is being damaged by Symmetra's turrets as he shoots them one by one.

I run up the incline and turn the corner, hiding behind a thick pillar so that Widowmaker, who could be anywhere, can't find me. I then emerge and run on my tip-toes across the courtyard toward the battered ruins of a small square building. I can't see the roof from where I am now, and I assume Widowmaker could be up there with a perfect view of the battle raging below.

As I head into the dilapidated room, I notice that the only light source comes from a tiny rectangular window near the ceiling. It shines a dusty spotlight onto a complex tile mosaic, now coated in dirt. I head silently up the stairs, careful not to trip over one of many fist-sized rocks scattered on the steps. Once, I get to the top, I see the sunlight shining on a long, purple ponytail.

Widowmaker has her eye pressed to the scope of her rifle and I am able to sneak up on her with ease. Not wanting to risk death in another firefight, I simply aim my un at her head and pull a red trigger situated at the back of the weapon. Three helix rockets shoot out of the gun and collide with Widowmaker's purple ponytail. She collapses off of the roof and I find myself hoping that no one saw her death.

Like Widowmaker, I can see the entire battlefield from here. I watch McCree, having now destroyed all of Symmetra's turrets, battling Symmetra herself. He aims at her shoulder and shoots as she connects her weapon to his stomach, slowly draining his health. He shoots again and hits her head, killing her. Next to him, Reinhardt fights both Zarya and Reaper. Reaper gets a shot in at his helmet, but it doesn't do much damage, knocking Reinhardt back instead. Reinhardt prepares to charge and takes down Reaper, pinning him to the same wall he had previously killed Mei against. He now only has Zarya left to fight. She shoots him in the chest with a ball of light, weakening him greatly. Reinhardt pulls his hammer back, preparing for a fire-strike, but Zarya notices the warning sign, having faced this attack before. She yanks her gun back toward her chest, creating a shimmering pink-purple bubble around her body. Reinhardt's fire-strike hits her straight in the head, only strengthening her. She finishes him off, pointing her laser in his direction, and burning a hole through his chest. He falls down with a final groan.

At this sight, I rush down the stairs and out of the building to get to the objective before Mercy gets killed, too. McCree runs out behind the bridge, in need of healing, and Mercy follows. I slide down the smooth incline to the point again and aim at Zarya. However, Torbjörn is already doing the job for me. He bangs his hammer and laughs in a jolly way as his turret finishes the damage Reinhardt had already done.

"Great one, Torbjörn," I compliment.

"Thanks, Jack," he replies, and jumps down from the bridge. McCree and Mercy join us on the point and Tracer comes out from her defensive position in the courtyard and joins us. We capture the point in a few seconds and wait out the claim. Tracer laughs, slumping down on the point as we claim it.

"What's so funny?" asks McCree, stubbing out his cigar in one of the cracks in the ground.

He rubs it down into the revealed ground with the heel of his cowboy boot.

"Sitting up there," Tracer starts, "waiting for the fight to be over, or for someone to come and attack me; it felt like I was in a story and the author just forgot I was on the team. Honestly, I don't even remember walking to the bridge with you guys."

"That's...uhh...strange," says Torbjörn, eyeing Tracer from his spot on the ground with his eyebrows knit.

"Heh," says Tracer. "The author probably just wants to forget that they made that amateur mistake and move on with the story."

"Then let's move on," says Mercy.

I sit down next to Torbjörn and Mercy and McCree follow suit. I glance up at the hologram glowing in the middle of the objective and see that the number ninety percent shines white against a blue background. I wait for it as it crawls up to 100 percent, unaware that I'm softly humming an old song, almost forgotten; 'There's a blaze of light in every word, it doesn't matter which you heard, the holy or the broken Hallelujah," I hum as the hologram reaches ninety-nine, then 100 percent.

We all spawn a second later in the ship to join Reinhardt for the second, and hopefully last battle.


	8. Friends (Part 2)

**Hey, everyone!**

 **It's been so great, looking at the reviews on my story. I wish I could respond to show everyone my individual thanks!**

 **As you saw, my last chapter, published yesterday, was titled "Friends (Part 1)." This is because, while I was writing, I got really tired and needed a break, but I knew that I wouldn't keep writing that day. I just decided to make it part 1 of the longest battle I've written and publish part 2 today.**

 **I'm sorry if this chapter wasn't too interesting, but trust me; I have a lot of drama planned out ahead.**

 **Without further ado, here it is.**

Chapter 8

When everyone is gathered in the ship after the first attack, we buckle in and get prepared for a five second ride to the next location. The doors open after a brief journey and a countdown.

"Alright, team," I say as we step out of the aircraft, "Remember the plan. We need to split up."

I look at each of the faces around me and come up with something logical enough.

"Alright. I've got it," I present, "McCree, you come with me. And...Torbjörn. We'll be one group. Then, Reinhardt and Tracer. Mercy, you can pick a side. Whoever you think will need it most."

"Well, since there are six of us, I should probably go with Tracer and Reinhardt. You know, to balance it out."

"Right," I say. "Well, let's get going. How about you three can take the left path and attack. We'll go right, so Torbjörn can find a place to set up his turret. Let's go before they capture the point again."

"Yes, sir," announces Torbjörn with a jolly salute.

We split up, my group heading down the cracked stone pavement to the right while the other three go to the left and disappear down a gradual stone staircase. As we rush down the alleyway, I look up to see the tall shape of a sky-blue lighthouse, standing against a brilliant sun. The paint on the sides peels here and there, revealing old white brick, the original foundation for the structure. The lighthouse towers over white and blue houses made of stucco.

We turn the corner and see the objective, glowing under a deep blue roof with a bell jutting out of the top, held up by thin but sturdy blue walls, which close around the edges of the area in dull ninety degree angles.

Reyes is the only man who stands on the point. He's backed up in one of the corners at the edge, looking around frantically for someone. As I sneak closer, McCree and Torbjörn following close behind me, I notice that the holographic image hovering above shows a white circle. A red line runs slowly along the outer edges, filling the circle's outside a quarter of the way. I decide then to attack, not only for the win, but for the kill. McCree runs outside of the point, looking for the other half of our team. As I step quickly onto the point, Reyes jumps but prepares quickly. He begins to shoot at me and I counter. I blow bullets around him, some penetrating around his waist. He shoots at me, alternating his shotguns right and left. A bullet goes through my chest, knocking me back so I have to circle my arms at my sides for balance.

He fires again, hitting my stomach and I fire back, taking shots at his chest. Most of the bullets scatter around him but some make it. I'm still, however, losing the fight. Just in time, I hear a voice speak behind me:

"Your support has arrived," cries Mercy over the gunfire, but I don't look behind me to see her, as I already feel better when her healing rays hit my back.

I shoot at Reyes again, feeling better, more confident. I don't do much damage, so I pull the red trigger at the back of my gun, pointing at his head.

My helix rockets explode out, rushing at his head, and he dies immediately when they hit, falling back into the wall. I look behind at Mercy and see that the others are here, too.

"Thanks," I breathe with relief.

She offers a wink at me and my face feels hot and sweaty, not just because of the sun. The next second, she's knocked into the wall and killed by a combined force of Junkrat's concussion mine and Zarya's energy globe.

"Holy shit!" I yell, ducking back as Zarya and Junkrat enter the space, a smiling Mei following behind. Reinhardt takes charge, literally, and misses Junkrat and Zarya, but knocks Mei into a flowerbed outside of the point. She doesn't die but retreats into her block of ice, healing. Suddenly, Reinhardt is shot in the head by an unseen sniper. We all know immediately who it is. Widowmaker falls back into the building that acts as her nest when Reinhardt pulls his hammer back but misses her completely when his fire-strike hits the wall of the room where Widowmaker made her attack.

Reinhardt had almost forgotten about the woman who popped out of her icy cocoon, fully healed. She freezes Reinhardt over quickly while he's distracted and headshots him with an icicle, killing him.

Meanwhile inside the point, only four of us are left; me, Tracer, Torbjörn, and McCree, who's already half-dead after killing Junkrat. In the next second, however, Symmetra emerges from behind the corner and rushes into the point. McCree has no time to react as Symmetra charges a ball of hard light and aims it at his head, finishing him off easily.

Tracer has been standing by and reacts quickly, unloading a full cartridge onto Symmetra's chest. However, she isn't prepared for Zarya, who attacks her from behind as she shoots Symmetra. While Tracer is distracted, Zarya kills her with a few easy shots to her back, along with her laser. It's now three against two and, with the enemies on the point, we have made no progress.

Now, Widowmaker runs into the point with her gun in automatic mode. She tries to kill me but I kill her instead with a single shot from my rockets, now reloaded in the gun. Torbjörn has a level one sentry and he upgrades it quickly. This is when the unexpected happens.

Before Symmetra disappeared from the point, she had set up a turret on the wall, unnoticed until now as it shoots Torbjörn. I rush over and thrust my gun at the eye-like circle on the top, an easy destruction. Symmetra herself now rushes inside, back to full health and I start to shoot at her. I kill her halfway, and Torbjörn's turret finishes her.

"Nice, Torb," I yell over the commotion. He gives me a quick thumbs up.

Two enemies are left. The battle rages two on two. Mei comes up behind me and before I can react, she freezes me.

"Oh, god," I think, believing that this is the end of me.

However, I'm wrong, because as Torbjörn's turret kills Zarya in a matter of seconds, he himself rushes to my rescue, shooting at Mei. He gets a headshot and I unfreeze and capture the point with him. Mei is dead, and we win the game in our best mindset.


	9. Disappointment (The Final Chapter)

**Hello again,**

 **Over the past...however long it's been since I've last posted, I've been thinking about the future of the story. I stopped writing because I was stressed. I really decided to take a "break" after I saw a review telling me that it was okay. I caused my so-called "break" to drag out.**

 **I found myself thinking that I needed to stop. So...I did. It was only the other day that I realized how it was affecting me. If you can believe it, it was actually affecting my grades when I stopped. I thought it was because I was writing.**

 **I've read many stories where the author just stopped writing. I didn't want that to become me. There have been many times in my life when I've stopped doing something in the middle. This story means so much to me and I just wouldn't want that to happen.**

 **This will be the final chapter of Halo. I've decided that I'm kind of tired with it and I just don't really feel it anymore. However, I have an ending planned out for this chapter. If you like it, you like it. If you don't, you don't. However, this is for my best interest. I think it would only decline from here and I want to write about something fun for me.**

 **My next fic will be Lúcio x . I have not, of course, come up with all the details but I'll work with it as I go along. I should publish chapter 1 some time in the next week.**

 **Thank you all for being so loyal to this story. You make me smile every day. Without your reviews, I would probably only get to chapter 2.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Grace**

Chapter 9

A big, bushy tree, its green boughs sticking out in all directions, makes its home in the corner of the living room. The fireplace roars with colorful flames, casting a warm glow across the floor (even when the scorching Mexican sun shines as bright as ever).

Although the spirit of winter seems to have thrown up all over the place, my heart is emptier than it should be. I have found myself thinking that, in time, our recent victory might nestle into the space in my heart where Mercy punched a hole, but it hasn't done anything yet and I doubt it ever will.

Now, sitting in an old recliner in the living room, I find myself reading over the same sentence in my Stephen King novel for the fifth time. My mind keeps drifting to an awfully familiar place. I think of Mercy, and I wonder if she feels the same hole in her heart for me. I imagine that she might, but I don't know how to feel about that hope. Hope? Or is it regret?

I'm relieved when Tracer enters the room, sliding onto a brown leather couch beside me and interrupting my dismal thoughts.

"Hey, Jack."

"Hi, Lena."

There's no point in trying to continue my book now. I don't think I want to, anyway.

"So," I begin, "Any plans for Christmas?"

"I'm going home to King's Row," she responds.

"Oh, right. Are you celebrating with Emily?"

"Yeah. Her family's back in Florida for the Holidays."

Emily is Tracer's fiancé. She's American herself, from Miami, but she met Tracer during a semester abroad and they live together in England now. I've heard a lot about her from Tracer, but I've never met her myself.

We sit quietly for a few seconds, Tracer absently drawing shapes with her finger on the worn leather couch.

"What about you, Jack?" she asks.

"Huh?"

"Do you have plans for Christmas?"

"Oh," I say, "Just the usual, I guess. I'll just stay here."

"Survey the perimeter?" she asks sarcastically.

"Ha. I guess so."

"You know, if you want to stay with Emily and me, we have an extra bedroom. We don't use it."

"No, that's alright," I say. "I don't want to be any trouble."

"I promise, it's really nothing," she insists. "We'll have extra food anyway. Plus...Do you really want to stay here alone?"

I look around, considering my options. I've stayed here alone on Christmas every year. Sure, it's pretty lonely but...

"Alright," I agree. "If you swear it won't be any trouble."

"I told you already, I promise."

"Great," I say, "When should I pack?"

"Today, probably," she says, "We leave tomorrow morning."

"Okay. I'll pack now."

I grab my book and head up the stairs, thanking Tracer on the way to my room. When I get there, McCree is sitting up on his bed, reading a thin book.

"Hi, Jes."

"Hey, Jack," says McCree, putting his book text-down on the bed.

I see the title now: Western Suns

"What are you up to?" he asks quizzically.

I'm rifling through the top shelf of the closet, feeling for my suitcase.

"Trying to find my suitcase," I say, "I'm spending Christmas with Lena."

"Ain't you a little old for her?" he snickers.

"Very funny."

I find my suitcase and pull it off of the shelf. It's coated in a thin layer of dust, settled into the black fabric.

"She lives with that girl, right? What's her name...?"

"Emily."

"Right," he says, pointing a finger in the air.

He lets it drop onto his chest. I swipe the last bit of dust off the surface of my suitcase, and zip it open.

"So, Jesse. Do you have any plans of your own?"

"Yeah," he says, "I'm visiting a friend."

"Where?"

"Japan, actually. Hanamura."

"Huh. Who is it?"

He waves a hand in a 'forget it' gesture.

"An old friend."

I shrug and start packing. McCree picks up his book again and continues to read in silence.

I throw in two pairs of jeans, sweatpants, and tan-colored slacks. I get a sky-blue dress shirt to go with them and a sweater. I also take a few plain t-shirts out and stuff them in with the rest. I remember the snow and take an old military jacket with the overwatch emblem printed on each of the sleeves. I finally grab both a pair of loafers and tattered sneakers and zip my suitcase. I remember my toothbrush and head to the bathroom for it. Once I get it, I head back to put it in a smaller pocket along with an extra pair of socks and underwear.

I look around to make sure I didn't forget anything. I then take my suitcase and place it neatly in the closet for tomorrow.

I decide to go get my workout done for today. I head to the door, and wave goodbye to McCree on the way out, but he stops me with one word.

"Hanzo," he says.

I look back at him and see that he's put his book down on the bedside table and is sitting up, legs dangling over the edge of his mattress.

"What?"

"He's the friend I'm visiting...Well, I guess he's more than a friend. He's...special. Special to me."

He takes his book one last time, and covers his blushing face with it. I go into the hall, closing the door behind me to give McCree privacy. Did he mean what I think he meant? If he did... he kept it quiet pretty damn well.

I find the gym and enter to see it completely empty. That's good. I'll be taking a break from working out for a week while I'm in England, and I don't want to get distracted.

This must be the only room in the whole base devoid of Christmas decorations. Even the bathroom has it's fair share of mistletoe and candy canes. I walk over to one of the treadmills on my far left. I turn the biggest dial on the control panel ninety degrees; a medium difficulty run. The belt starts up and I begin to step with it, slowly at first and then faster.

It's about ten minutes before the first drops of sweat start to fall from my hairline. I keep with the motion of the treadmill, pumping my arms back and forth, back and forth. I've been going for twenty minutes now and I'm really starting to sweat. By the time my run is over at thirty minutes, I'm drenched from head to toe, but I'm not tired yet.

I continue to a heavy bag. I decide to grab some wraps from a duffel in the boxing area. I unravel them first (something that Tracer always finds the time to judge me for). Once they're in a pile on the floor, I bend down and find the end. I shoot the loophole around my thumb and start wrapping. I trace the white fabric over my wrist before bringing it up and weaving it through each finger one by one. Once that's done, I bring what's left back down to my wrist and pull it around and around up to my forearm where I secure it tightly on the velcro strip. I get the other wrap and go over the same progress with my other hand. Around the fingers, making it tight before bringing it to my arm. I take a pair of boxing gloves from off the bench next to me. The formerly bright red leather has faded to a dark maroon, white specks of canvas showing through the breaches. I pull them on one by one, using my teeth to tighten the second one around my wrist.

I face the fat heavy bag and consider my options. I make a speedy jab with my right arm, not giving the inanimate object in front of me any time to react. I then cross over with my left hand while turning my back foot and connect higher up, where it really stings. I laugh somewhat evilly and try some combinations. I stick mostly to good old hooks and jabs, throwing a surprise kick in there every now and then. After about five minutes, I start to get tired out. I decide I shouldn't have run on the treadmill for so long. The punching bag looks saggy and defeated, so I decide to end it's misery with a move of my own.

I come up with a plan to surprise the bag before it can punch me back. I shuffle, still in my stance, to the other side of the heavy bag. I then make my move by throwing a light punch, barely knocking it back. However, this is only the beginning of my big victory. I lean toward the bag as it keels, about to bounce back up. I finally throw my elbow at it as hard as I can, knocking it back an incredible distance. It comes back up and bonks me straight in the nose. I cry out and roll back on my heels, my eyes stinging with painful tears. I put my gloved hand over my nose and fall on my back, creating even more hurt for myself. I remove my hand from my face and see disgusting amounts of blood sinking into the old fabric of the glove, coloring it crimson.

"Oh, shit."

Even just speaking hurts my nose. I should feel fear as streams of blood flow down my chin and drip all over my previously white shirt, but I slowly start to fill with something different, a feeling that surprises me. Rage races through my body, starting at my feet and quickly traveling to my face, making the sweat and blood roll down my cheeks quicker.

I'm fucking furious.

I struggle to my knees and stand up from there, placing my hand on a bench for support on my shaky legs. I'm finally up and facing that stupid sack again. This time, I don't bother to weigh my options. I charge at the bag and collide head on, knocking it back again. However, this time I'm ready. This time, I'll finish the job. I punch it back again and again. I jog around the heavy bag, attacking it from all different positions, in every way I can think of. I've completely lost my stance and am now leaning on the bag and using my charging fists to hold myself up. And I'm so mad. I'm mad at Mercy for hurting me like this. I'm mad at Reinhardt for ever questioning my authority, even inside of his thick little skull. I'm mad at McCree and Tracer for being so deeply in love, so utterly entranced in their partners. I'm even mad at Torbjörn for god knows what reason. And I am, of course, mad at Reyes, that backstabbing piece of shit.

But, as I stand here, blood now flying from my lips and chin, getting stuck in my hair and whatnot, I can only think of one person who I want to beat the life out of.

Jack Morrison.

I'm mad at Jack for letting go of the love of his life so easily. I'm mad at Jack for making Reinhardt feel like a useless factor on the team. I'm mad at Jack for being ungrateful for his two best friends, who have always been there. I'm mad at Jack for ever being mad at Torbjörn because who can be mad at that sweet little Swedish munchkin? And I'm mad at Jack for not forgiving or trusting. Because Jack makes mistakes too. Jack probably makes the most mistakes out of anyone!

I find my body unable to remain standing anymore and I collapse on the floor in real defeat. I feel defeated in so many ways, but I also feel light. It's as if there was an anvil on my chest and I couldn't pull it off until now, but now that it's off, I just don't know what to do with myself.

So I start by taking off my gloves. I try to use my hands as much as I can for this task because my face still burns all over. I manage to get them off without too much trouble. I'm not ready to stand up just yet, so I simply place them on the bench next to me. I don't even have the energy to cry anymore. Well, what's the point in crying when it won't change anything?

I stay here for a few minutes until I realize that I'm still bleeding down my shirt. I undo my wraps and put them on top of the gloves. I get to my feet painfully and stumble out of the gym, my hand over my nose.

I cautiously push open the door to the men's quarters and wheeze a sigh of relief when I see no one inside. I go straight to the bathroom and look in the mirror. I jump in shock at what I see. Staring at me with wide but sleepy eyes is a man who looks like he's just been through hell and back. My white hair is matted to my skull with sweat (and a little bit of blood) in at least four places that I can see. Scary amounts of blood are drying on my chin and lips. At least my nose has stopped bleeding. But my nose is still the part that makes me jump. I know as soon as I see it that it's broken. My nostrils are so clogged with blood that I can't see a single white hair within them. The bridge of my nose is mangled and crooked. A shallow but bloody gash runs across it. From far away, my nose would just look like a big bloody hole in my face. My shirt's drenched with blood, so I pull it over my head only to see that it got on my chest, too. A big patch of my chest hair has turned red. I can't clean all of this off in the sink alone. At least my jeans are okay save for a few drops.

I need to hide my shirt, so I temporarily put it in an empty pocket of my suitcase. I go back to the bathroom and pull aside one of the shower curtains. I get undressed, every movement making me ache. My other clothes are mostly clean, so I place them on the counter and get in the shower.

As soon as the water hits my naked body, the soreness starts to go away. I sit on the tile floor with my back against the wall and close my eyes. Warm water flows over my face and washes a good amount of the blood down the drain. I look back down at my chest to see that some of that blood is gone as well except for the amount still stuck in my hair. I reach for a wash cloth from the small vanity shelf and scrub the rest of the blood off my chest using soap. I push open the curtain a little bit to check on my nose in the mirror. Most of the blood washed off the surface of my nose, and I can now see the cut more clearly. It's deeper than I thought at first glance. I need to get it bandaged up before it gets infected. I close the curtain again and finish showering. I wash my hair and try to get the blood out of my nose even though it stings with every rub of the washcloth.

I step out of the shower and onto a fuzzy bathmat. I get a towel from the rack on the wall and dry off quickly, trying not to leave any blood on the towel. I go back into my room with the towel wrapped around my waist. I go to the closet and get dressed quickly. No matter how I feel about it, I know what I have to do. I've been trying to avoid Mercy, but I can't treat my own nose. I head to the medbay down the hall and open the door to see her sitting on one of the many hospital beds with her staff on her lap, deactivated. She's carefully observing the handle of it, probably trying to come up with an upgrade. She looks up at the sound of the door and sees me. She grimaces but retains her composure.

"You look awful, Jack," she says.

"That's not the first time this week someone's told me that."

She crosses the room quickly to get to my swollen nose. She takes a minute to observe the damage and leads me over to a bed. I sit down on the edge of it while she heads over to her desk to get something.

"It's broken, that's for sure," she says, searching around in the desk drawers, "You probably know that already."

I nod.

"At least you cleaned it up. But maybe you should know; warm water contains more chemicals, so you should use cold water the next time you try to heal a wound on your own. Or maybe you should come to me first."

She says this last bit with a tinge of sourness in her voice, making my heart ache a little bit.

"How did you know I used warm water?"

"Because I know you took a shower," she says, and I give her a dumb look, "Your hair's still wet."

"Oh," I say stupidly, feeling at the damp hair on my forehead.

"There it is."

She grabs something from a drawer, closes it, and comes back over to me. I see what's in her hand as she places it on the bed next to me. It's a needle and a spool of surgical thread.

"Sit still," she says.

I do as Mercy says while she pulls the thread through the eye of the needle. I cringe slightly as she brings the needle, now at the ready, towards my face. If there's one thing I'm scared of, it's needles.

"Do you mind numbing it first?" I ask somewhat nervously.

She stops what she's doing abruptly.

"It's an automatic number. Specifically for stitches. The needle is already filled, so the medicine will go into the cut as soon as it enters the flesh. Trust me. You won't feel a thing."

"Alright."

She continues her work, putting her hand on my cheek for support. I get goosebumps as she does it, but they go away as soon as the needle enters my skin. I really don't feel anything but the uncomfortable slide of the thread in my nose as her nimble fingers work the needle in and out. Mercy pulls the string out, her work done, and drops it, along with the needle, into a small metal trash can next to the bed.

"Was that so hard?" She asks sarcastically.

I shake my head, feeling like a child in defeat at the end of a long and painful tantrum.

"Thanks, Mercy."

She gives me a confused, slightly concerned look and says, "Since when do you call me that?"

I don't answer, but stare at my bare feet instead as they hang at rest above the floor.

"Now get going," she says after a long silence, going back to her desk and continuing work on her staff, "I have important work to do."

"Okay."

I stand up and feel dull pain crawling up my back. I walk to the door and have barely cross the threshold when I stop.

"I'm so sorry," I say.

Her back, turned to me, stiffens up and her arms stop their work on the staff. I leave before she can say anything back to me. I suddenly want to cry again, but I'm out of tears. I walk back to the men's quarters, my footfalls barely making a sound on the cold floor. I'm glad to see that no one is present in the room and my suitcase hasn't shifted an inch from its spot near the closet. I'm tired from an uneventfully eventful day and collapse on my bed fully clothed. I close my eyes and place my head against the warm pillow. Before I know it, I'm drifting off into a light and dreamless sleep.

I wake up two hours later to the faint sound of pool balls clacking together down the hall. I turn over onto my side to see the alarm clock. The red blinking numbers read 5:28 PM. I quickly remember that tonight is my day to make dinner. I sit up and stretch my arms over my head. When I look at my pillow, I notice a tiny red spot on the edge; dried blood. I touch my nose and cringe at my sudden sharp pain. The stitches feel bumpy, but I don't think there are too many in there. I get to my feet and step into the hallway. Gusts of laughter echo from the recreation room. I don't have to look inside to recognize that the voices belong to Reinhardt and Torbjörn.

When I enter the kitchen, I hear the TV, blaring intense western music and gunshot noises. I get closer and see that Tracer and McCree are watching HAL-Fred Glitchbot's Six Gun Killer in the living room. I think back to a time when I liked westerns. That was before I met Jesse McCree in all his braggadocious glory. I don't greet them. I don't think they would hear me anyway, since they're fully focused on the action of the TV screen. I open a cabinet above the kitchen counter and pull out two boxes of spaghetti. I also take a pot out of a drawer and fill it with water before placing it on the stove. I go through the process of pouring the raw spaghetti into the water and boiling it over the stove. I also heat up a jar of tomato sauce. Once I'm finished making dinner, I call everyone in. The TV screen is now rolling end credits over the same western music. McCree clicks the TV off, the enthusiastic tune being cut off abruptly. He enters the kitchen with Tracer at his side and they sit down next to each other. Reinhardt and Torbjörn walk in and sit down as well.

"What's for dinner?" asks Torbjörn, rubbing his hands together, his teeth showing in a wide grin.

"Spaghetti," I answer.

"Angela!" calls McCree.

It takes a few seconds to hear the distant response from down the hallway.

"Do you mind leaving some food at the medbay door? I'm working on an upgrade for my staff and I'm nearly done!"

McCree agrees to do so. He then scoops a pile of spaghetti onto his plate and licks his lips in delight.

"Pass the sauce, Jack?"

I do so after pouring myself some.

"So," says Reinhardt, banging his fist on the table which wobbles in protest, "Let's talk Christmas plans. We'll go in a circle. Who wants to start?"

"I'll go first," says Torbjörn, happy for conversation, "I think you all know what I'm doing, but I'll say it anyway. I'm going home to Ada and the kids."

"How many do you have now?" jokes Tracer.

"Still eight," Torbjörn confirms, chuckling and taking a large bite of spaghetti, "Reinhardt's staying with us. So is Mercy's niece."

"Brigitte," confirms Reinhardt, "She asked Mercy if she wanted to come with, but Mercy already has accommodations elsewhere. She didn't tell me what they were."

"Maybe she's staying with Ana and Fareeha again," I add.

Tracer nods and I notice a brief but strange look on her face, almost a nervous glance. I shake it off.

"What about you, Lena?" asks Reinhardt.

"I'm living with Emily now, so I'm going to King's Row. Jack's staying with us." She flashes me a grin.

"Nowhere else for me to go," I say. I immediately regret it when Tracer frowns a little bit and looks down at her food.

I decide to change the topic.

"Jesse's going to-"

"New Mexico," he says, cutting me off quickly.

"Ah," I say, playing along, "Doesn't your sister still live there?"

"Yeah. Her and her boyfriend, Lincoln."

"Right."

We finish our dinner in silence. I find that I'm very hungry, so much so that I have to resist the urge to lick my plate clean. When everyone's done eating, McCree fills one more plate and takes it down the hall to the medbay. Everyone else brings their plates to the sink. When we turn to leave, Reinhardt sticks behind; it's his night to do the dishes. I go to the men's quarters to get an early start on sleep. It's been a long day and I need to rest up for tomorrow's journey to King's Row. We're departing from an airport so it'll be a longer flight than I'm used to. I head into the room and lie down on my bed. I set my alarm clock to wake me up at 5:00 in the morning so I can catch the flight. I don't have to change out of the sweatpants and t-shirt that I'm wearing. As I drift into sleep, I'm faintly aware of McCree entering and getting undressed for bed. I fall asleep slowly, but I don't wake up once I'm under.

I wake up well rested the next morning and ready to get going. I hear the sink running in the bathroom as I slide out of bed. McCree, Torbjörn, and Reinhardt are still fast asleep and, based off of the silence in the girls' room, I assume the same. We have two hours until we have to leave for the airport, so I go to the bathroom to take a shower. I greet Lena when I enter, and undress in the shower, hanging my clothes over the curtain rod. Once I finish, feeling awake, I peek out to see if Lena's still there. The mirror is foggy and the shower next to me is running. I step out, and grab a towel to cover up before Lena gets out. I go back into my room and see that the other men are still sleeping. I head to the suitcase on the floor and select my clothes. I get a gray t-shirt and my Overwatch military jacket. I take jeans and a pair of underwear. I also take a pair of socks and sneakers. I decide not to eat breakfast because I figure they have a Kofi Aromo or something similar at the airport. When I finish getting dressed as quietly as I can, I go back to the bathroom to brush my teeth and comb my hair. Tracer's in her room again, getting dressed. I start brushing my teeth and feel refreshed at the minty taste that hits my tongue. After that, I comb my hair and go into the hallway, rolling my suitcase behind me. Tracer's already waiting for me, dressed in ripped jeans and a jacket with a furry hood. It's a little strange to see her in anything other than workout clothes.

"Ready to head out?" she asks when she sees me.

"Lead the way."

We start to walk down the hall toward the building's exit.

"We can get breakfast at the airport," she says.

"Alright," I agree, "Kofi Aromo okay with you?"

"Always."

We reach the end of the hall and open the door. Dorado's humid morning air greets my face and I have to squint against the sun.

"I called a taxi yesterday," says Tracer, "It should be here any second."

As if on cue, the black and yellow car hovers down the street and stops at the curb where we stand. I gesture Tracer in before I sit down myself. To be honest, I've never trusted these Omnic death chambers. I liked it better when there was a real person driving. It's a quick drive to the airport, and I prefer it that way. When we arrive, we go through a series of automated customs before we can go to our gate. The building is very crowded because of the holidays, but Tracer and I manage. We stop at a Kofi Aromo at the airport where I get a breakfast burrito and a latte. I sleep for most of the plane ride because I want to have enough energy for the rest of the day.

Once Tracer and I have our bags, she calls another taxi to pick us up from the baggage claim. It shows up in only five minutes and we hover away. We ride mostly in silence, apart from small conversation now and then. The sun is setting and it casts a warm light onto the street. Even though snow is falling thickly in front of us, I can still see through the windshield clearly enough. As we pass Big Ben, I notice how its blue, holographic rings of light dance on piles of fluffy snow. Music pumps quietly out of the dashboard speakers; a scratchy yet somehow satisfying wordless electronic beat. I peer over at the screen and see the artist's short but sweet name: Lúcio. I think I've heard of Lúcio before but I don't know where. And then I remember. He's the DJ who invented the weapon that heals with songs. The one who's against Blackwatch. They wanted to recruit him. Ziegler told me about that. Ziegler...

I don't know how long I stare out the window, lost in regretful thoughts about Ziegler, but before I know it, Tracer is shaking my arm.

"We're there," she says excitedly.

I open the door and we step out into the chilly air. Tracer's apartment building looms above us, a modern building which completely stands out from its old brick neighbors. The outside is lined with clean shrubs, thin layers of snow settled upon their leaves.

"I can't wait for you to meet Emily," she says.

The excitement glows on her face.

"You've told me so much about her," I say, "I feel like I know her already."

Tracer laughs at this and leads me into the building as the taxi pulls away down the street. The building is warm despite the cold wind drifting in from outside. The lobby is empty apart from an overweight security guard settled behind the reception desk. We take the elevator all the way up to the top floor where we step off at a long hallway. Tracer's apartment is only a few doors in.

She knocks on the door and it opens almost immediately. Tracer jumps into Emily's arms and showers her freckled face with kisses.

"Oh, Lena," she says, "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too."

"Come in," she says, shooting me a welcoming smile.

I greet her at the threshold.

"You must be the famous Emily," I say.

I shake her hand. She has a firm grip.

"And you must be Commander Morrison. Thank you for your service."

"Please," I insist, "Call me Jack."

"It's nice to meet you, Jack."

"You too, Emily."

"Here. Let me take your coat."

I pull my jacket off my shoulders and hand it to her. She takes it and hangs it on a coat rack next to Tracer's.

Emily is exactly as Tracer described her. She has long orange hair which hangs down her back and sparkling brown eyes.

She has on a bright red christmas sweater with a picture of a reindeer on the front. The sweater exposes her shoulders which are covered in dense freckles.

"I'll make tea," says Tracer. She leaves Emily and me on the threshold.

Emily grabs my suitcase and starts to roll it toward a hallway.

"Make yourself at home, Jack," she says, "I'll take your suitcase to your room."

I thank her and walk into the living room, which consists of a cozy-looking sofa and a wicker chair. I sit down in the chair across from the holographic tv which is playing an old comedy show called The Office. I watched the entirety of The Office when I was fourteen. It's been a while since I've seen this show. The jingly theme song plays behind the screeching of a teapot in the kitchen. Emily walks back into the room a few seconds later and sits on the couch.

"How's that tea coming, love?" she calls into the kitchen.

"Almost done, Em!"

Emily turns to me.

"Your room's at the very end of the hallway. Last one on your right," she says, "Lena says that there might be someone else staying with us later on in the week. She hasn't decided for sure where she's going for the Holidays, so we don't know for sure when she'll be here."

"Who-?" I try to ask.

"Tea's ready, you two!" Tracer calls.

She walks in holding a big tray. On it is a steaming teapot and three cups. There's also a small bowl of something. When Tracer places the tray down on the glass coffee table, I see that the bowl is filled with ginger snaps.

She sits down on the couch next to Emily and leans into her shoulder.

"I was just telling Jack about our surprise guest."

Tracer gives Emily a look as if to say 'Don't say anything about that.' Emily's eyes go wide.

"Right," she whispers.

Tracer is quick to change the topic although I find myself wondering why I can't know about the mystery guest. My confusion probably shines on my face because waves a hand to dismiss the topic.

"It's snowing buckets out there," says Tracer.

Emily puts an arm around Tracer and pulls her close.

"It's been going for a week now," Emily informs us.

I pull a teacup from the tray and they do the same. I take a sip; it's hot and has a nice, minty taste.

"This is delicious," I tell Tracer.

"Lena makes the best tea," says Emily.

"And pancakes," I add.

"You're too sweet," says Tracer, kissing Emily.

I suddenly get a bad feeling in my stomach. I know that feeling. It isn't exactly jealously but more like a sadness. I miss Ziegler so much right now. I shouldn't have told her I didn't trust her. But a small part of my mind tells me that I don't. I just wish that part would go away. I do trust her. I love her.

Seeing Lena and Emily together like this...it just makes me more aware of that hole in my heart that I can't fill with distractions. I can only fill it with Angela Ziegler.

I drink some of the tea as if I can fill the hole with the warmth of it. Emily has already finished hers and Tracer is snacking on ginger snaps. I take one and eat it slowly, savoring the sweet taste in my mouth. We make small talk as we finish the tea and cookies. By the time we're done, the sun has gone down and the sky outside of the apartment's wide window is twinkling with stars behind the snow.

"Maybe we shouldn't have eaten all that right before dinner," says Emily, giggling.

"Should we go out?" asks Tracer.

Emily and I agree to this and we go to the door to get our jackets. As we walk down the hall, I ask where we're going to go.

"There's a great pizza place in the town square," says Tracer.

"Luigi's," adds Emily.

"I'm always down for pizza," I respond.

"Perfect," says Emily.

The walk to the town square is short but cold. The wind pierces my cheeks and neck while we walk and I start to regret not bringing a scarf with me. Emily wears a long, teal scarf covered in pattern lines all the way along it. She sees me looking at it.

"Lena got this for me last Christmas," she says.

"It's nice."

"Thanks," says Tracer. We all laugh at that.

We walk through a brick tunnel and emerge in the square. The King's Row town square screams Christmas spirit. In the middle of the square stands a giant statue of the deceased leader of the Shambali Omnic monks, Tekhartha Mondatta, holding a little girl's hand, a spinning globe in the other. The statue's base is layered in a shimmering pile of snow, stacking up against the little girl's chubby legs and there are lights strung around the edges. Blocking of the alleyway on the other side of the courtyard is a giant christmas tree. It's shining gold star almost reaches the balcony of the Alderworth Hotel.

I expect the square to be packed with people, but everyone is inside the Square's numerous shops and restaurants. The restaurant that we approach has two big, light-tinted windows on either side of the door. Through them, I can see people eating and chatting. A young woman in a pink dress raises her glass to a toast as a black-haired man at another table soothes his fussy toddler with a pacifier. When we walk in, the smell of warm pizza dough and buttery spaghetti washes over my nose. We sit down at a table next to the window with three seats. I order spaghetti and meatballs while Tracer and Emily share a cheese pizza. The server walks away into the kitchen scribbling our order on an iPad fifty-seven mini.

"So, Jack," says Emily, "Lena recently called to tell me about what happened with you."

I'm genuinely confused and my face conveys it.

"Between you and Angela," she clarifies.

Although this doesn't surprise me, I still can't help but give Tracer a jokingly angry glance.

"Nothing really," I reply.

"Are you okay?" she asks.

"You've been acting so depressed," says Tracer, "You're not keeping it all that secret."

"Lena!" cries Emily.

"What?"

"No. It's true," I say, "I miss her. I really haven't told anyone."

"You can tell us how you feel, Jack. We won't judge you," says Tracer.

"She's right," comments Emily, "Holding things back like this isn't healthy."

"We're here for you. Take your time."

I almost back out but I also know that I have to say something.

"I'm scared," I say.

"It's okay, Jack. You can tell-"

"I'm not scared of that, Emily. I know you guys are are there for me. I'm scared of losing her..."

And it all connects. It's like the moment when you finally understand a joke you've been pondering. The blow mixes all of my thoughts together. It puts them together and I finally get it.

"It was Reyes."

"Who's Reyes?" asks Emily, "What are you talking about?"

"Gabriel Reyes," says Tracer, "He was a member of Overwatch before it was disbanded. He was also Jack's best friend. After the Swiss Headquarters incident, he joined Blackwatch. Betrayed us, Jack specifically."

"What about him?"

"I lost my trust for him. I had a reason not to trust him. When Angela told me that she saved him, I thought I had a reason not to trust her."

"But she cares about you," says Tracer, "You know that."

"I know. I care about her too."

"You need to make things right," says Emily.

"How? There's a whole week before I can see her again."

"Love can wait a couple of days," says Tracer

"But can it wait a week?"

"No," says Emily, "A couple days tops."

They start to laugh and are still giggling to each other when our waiter comes back with two plates of steaming hot food. Everyone's hungry so we eat dinner and what feels like seconds. It's absolutely delicious. I won't even regret it when I get a stomach ache.

The taste of creamy butter still lingers on my tongue while we walk back to the apartment. It's snowing heavily now and it stings my numb cheeks and nose.

I'm relieved by the warmth of the apartment building. We reach Emily and Tracer's door. After a lot of fumbling around in the many pockets of her coat, Tracer finds the keys and opens the door. I take off my jacket and hang it on the coat rack.

"I'd better turn on the news," says Emily after she and Tracer hang theirs up.

"I'll unpack."

As I roll my suitcase down the hallway, I hear the TV turn on and a news anchor's voice enthusiastically proclaims:

"Snuggle up, folks, because there's gonna be snow, and there's gonna be a lot of it. We expect an about sixteen inches in the King's Row area by morning."

I reach the open door and walk in, closing it most of the way. The room is small but cozy. A tidy bed, its blue comforter pulled up high takes up most of the space. There's a low wooden dresser sitting at the foot. It has six drawers; plenty for the few items I brought along.

I unpack my things quickly, stuffing them into the different drawers of the chest. The sky has turned pitch-black by now, and it's making me tired. I'm yawning uncontrollably into my hand.

I change out of my clothes and turn off the light. I crawl into bed. As I drift off into a deep sleep, I hear the TV turn off and the sound of soft, loving whispers in the hall as Tracer and Emily make their way to bed.

I wake up to the faint smell of bacon and eggs sizzling on a pan. The tiny clock on the wall reads 10:38. I pull the covers off of my sweaty legs and realize that I'm only wearing boxers and socks. Getting out of bed with jet lag isn't an easy task but I've done it before. I get dressed in a t-shirt and jeans and walk into the hall.

I notice something strange as I get closer to the kitchen. I can hear the usual chit chat that comes along with Tracer and Emily, but there's another voice. I can't deny that I recognize it but...

"Morrison?"

"Ziegler," I say, truly shocked.

When love happens, you know it. When you're in love, you want to be with him/her every second of your life. You do stupid things and act like an idiot. If I could write an ending to this story, I would. Call me dramatic. I don't give a shit. If you don't like the ending, scream at me. Feel free. To tell you all the truth, I have a lot of shit going on right now. I'm a mess, to be frank. I call it my mental breakdown. But I can relate to this. In the end, Jack realized what he had to do. He did it and it felt right. I'm sorry if this isn't the ending that you wanted. You probably wanted him to go to town square. To get some chocolates. Have some interaction with Genji while there. Come back. Wake up in the middle of the night and apologize to her because he loves her. I had that planned out. I'm sorry if this ending isn't the one that you wanted, and I'm not satisfied either. But I'm a mess. What else can I really say?

I would like to thank you all once more for sticking with me through this. I would like to thank the millions of bags of microwave popcorn that got me here. I would like to thank the on friend of mine who cared enough to read this. You know who you are. Thank you so much

~Grace

This was a bullshit story and I wish it hadn't ended this way but it's currently 11:56 and I need some time to sleep. You don't have to forgive me.


End file.
